


Brother Against Brother

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kind of d'Art in distress but he gets himself out of it this time. LOL! Nothing graphic depicted as usual.<br/>Set during early season one before d'Art becomes a Musketeer.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother Against Brother

_Captain Treville’s office_

Interrupting a meeting he had been involved in with the inseparables, Treville marched out onto the balcony to stare below at a sight that confounded him. He couldn’t tell how many were involved but it appeared that d’Artagnan was among those fighting… his own brothers.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

“You ever,” d’Artagnan pummeled Giffrei in the face, “EVER!” he screamed, “touch me like that again! You’ll be feeling my main gauche in your stomach!” He kept hitting at the man, punch after punch until he was lifted bodily away from Giffrei’s heavier bulk by a pair of very strong arms. Kicking out, d’Artagnan began to fight the person whose grip he was caught up in. “Let me go!”

“Calm down!” Porthos yelled in the boy’s ear. He and Aramis and Athos had raced down to help as soon as they had seen what was going on. As Porthos looked around him, the captain, Aramis and Athos were trying to break up the other fights as fists kept flying. He tried to figure out what caused brother to turn against brother. The whelp in his arms wouldn’t stop wriggling around and he tightened his hold. “Aramis!” he shouted. “Need some help here with d’Artagnan!”

Glancing at Athos’ harsh features, Aramis saw that his older comrade had things well in hand on his end and ran over to aid Porthos. While his large friend struggled with d’Artagnan, Aramis bent down to remove Giffrei away from their fierce pup. “What in heaven’s name did you say to the lad?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion when Giffrei wouldn’t even meet his eyes. The man mumbled something low and with the noise going on all around him, Aramis couldn’t make it out. He just stood there and watched Giffrei scurry away from him like a frightened chicken.

Turning back to d’Artagnan, who still looked on the verge of murdering Giffrei, Aramis grabbed the boy’s face in his hands. “Look at me!” he shouted, but his heart fell to somewhere close to his feet when he noticed the lad’s eyes. “Porthos! We need to get d’Artagnan to the infirmary now!”

“Why? He ain’t hurt none!" Porthos argued.  "By God! Not the way he’s been tryin’ to tear himself away from me!” Porthos growled as d’Artagnan managed to land a blow to his ribs, earning a loud grunt from Porthos.

“Something bad happened!” Aramis knew that d’Artagnan was halfway in shock at whatever had occurred that none of them were aware of. Their youngest was in fight or flight mode. Aramis made a mental note to later have a word with Giffrei over all of this since the other man was at the crux of the matter. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“I’m gonna have to knock him out if we have any hopes of gettin’ the whelp to the doctor!” Porthos groaned as d’Artagnan head butted him.

“NON! I don’t want the lad hurt anymore than he probably has been!” Aramis scowled at Porthos' stubborn mindset.

“Well do somethin’!” Porthos glanced over at Athos and the captain who seemed to have contained the fighting between Rene, Karles, Willalme, Ewart and Giffrei’s co-horts.

“Mon dieu!” Treville hollered out as he raised his pistol in the air, shooting it off to get his men’s attention.

“Every man involved here is on report as of now!” he shouted in anger. Athos, he knew, was just as furious as he. Treville vowed to get to the bottom of this immediately. Understanding what a young hot head d’Artagnan could be, Treville was concerned that it had to have been something dire that set the lad off making him attack another brother. That is unless Giffrei attacked first.

“Rene!” Treville barked and motioned the Musketeer to his side. “You've become friends with d'Artagnan. What think you on the cause of his fight with Giffrei?”

Trying to avoid the issue, Rene’s eyes followed the progress of Aramis and Porthos as he watched the two men lift d’Artagnan over Porthos’ shoulder with d’Artagnan wildly kicking his legs out at them both. The youngster got a good blow in at Aramis while he was at it. Rene knew that Aramis would now be sporting a spectacular bruise later marring his handsome face. If things weren’t so grave Rene would have laughed as he noticed Porthos slapping d’Artagnan’s rear end to get the boy to behave.

“Rene!” Treville snapped sharply, seeing that the younger man’s attention had been caught by what was happening to the Gascon.

Swiftly obeying the command, Rene’s gaze focused back on his captain. “I am not positive, sir.”

“In other words, the only way I’m going to find out the truth is to get it from the horse's mouth,” Treville remarked dryly. “Go on about your duties,” he order briskly, though he was secretly pleased at how Rene tried to protect d’Artagnan.

“Athos,” Treville joined his lieutenant. “Did any of Giffrei’s friends say what started this ruckus?”

“Non,” was Athos’ clipped response. “All were very tight lipped on the matter.”

“Everyone seems to know something but us,” Treville was angered at all his men. “Let us go check on d’Artagnan.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Athos agreed as he and Treville headed for the infirmary.

_Infirmary_

“Merde!” Porthos swore as d’Artagnan lashed out at him again. “Aramis, what the hell do ya think happened to our whelp?”

“Until d’Artagnan calms down I have no idea, mon ami,” Aramis rubbed at his sore face where the boy had kicked him. He was afraid to look in a mirror knowing that his reflection would not be a pretty one, judging by how much it hurt to even open his jaw. “Porthos, back off!” Aramis grabbed his friend’s arms so that he would release the boy as Aramis noticed how d’Artagnan’s struggles increased the more Porthos wrestled with him.

“Are ya nuts!” Porthos saw the way Aramis was looking at him and was reluctant but did what his friend wanted. “Ya sure d’Artagnan didn’t jar something loose in that religious brain of yours when he kicked ya?”

“Very funny,” Aramis scowled. “I’m going with my intuition on this one.” Shooing the bigger man out of his way, Aramis watched how d’Artagnan scooted away from Porthos once released. He backed up against the headboard of the bed, drew his knees up, leaned his head forward and wrapped his arms around his legs. When the lad started rocking back and forth, Aramis began to feel scared for their pup.

When Treville and Athos walked in, Aramis went over to them, along with Porthos. “D’Artagnan is clearly suffering from some form of shock.”

“Aramis?” Athos observed d’Artagnan’s behavior from where he stood and glanced back at the sometime medic for an explanation.

Throwing up his hands, Aramis huffed. “I do not have all the answers! I can’t even get close enough to him to see if the youngster’s hurt,” he rubbed at his face again. “He was like a wild animal, scared out of his mind and out of control with fury.”

“I think he was attacked,” Porthos offered his opinion gruffly, seeing all eyes turned his way. “Look at the pup’s clothes for one thing.”

“He no doubt got into that shape during the fight,” Treville assumed. It was a likely answer to the state d'Artagnan was in.

“Non,” Athos disagreed. “See how d’Artagnan’s shirt is torn and his breeches are partly undone at the top.”

Abruptly turning around, Treville went back outside and a few minutes later came back in with Rene in tow. Pushing the younger Musketeer toward the others, all Treville needed was to look at Rene with hardened eyes to make the man tell them all what he was keeping from them.

“Before the fight came out into the courtyard, I heard d’Artagnan and Giffrei exchanging words from within the stable,” Rene trailed off not wanting to say anything further that might cause d’Artagnan embarrassment, but as the inseparables glared at him and Treville breathed down his neck Rene realized for his younger friend’s sake he better tell them the truth. “It sounded like Giffrei had tried getting frisky with d’Artagnan,” Rene blushed as he admitted that much.

“ _Frisky_?” Athos growled, clenching his fists tightly. _Frisky_ only meant one thing to him and if what he was thinking happened... Giffrei had better make his peace with God.

“I heard d’Artagnan yell at Giffrei that if he ever touched him like that again that d’Artagnan would kill him,” Rene glanced over at the bed where the boy sat rocking back and forth. “After that, the fight came outside with the rest of us taking sides,” Rene winced. “D’Artagnan has many friends among us and even though I was the only one privy to the argument, my other brothers defended d’Artagnan as if the lad was one of us already.”

“And we know Giffrei’s brothers defended him for the same reason,” Aramis sighed. He wouldn't be satisfied until he heard from d'Artagnan's own lips that he was fine. And even that would be debatable because the pup's definition of _fine_ never matched theirs.

“I will kill Giffrei myself if he has harmed the boy!” Athos announced fiercely. Feeling Treville’s hand on his shoulder, Athos whipped his head around and glowered at his captain.

“We still have know idea of what truly transpired between the two of them.” Treville tried to be the voice of reason here, but his stomach turned at the forbidden thoughts running through his mind right now.

“You know speculation is all well and good,” Aramis pointed out, “but until I get it from the direct source,” his eyes slid to d’Artagnan’s silent figure still huddled on the bed, “that’s all it is... _speculation_.”

“All right,” Athos barked, “Doctor Aramis,” he stabbed a finger at d’Artagnan. “See if you can get the pup to open up about what happened.”

Rolling his eyes, Aramis carefully approached the lad. As he sat on the bed near d’Artagnan's shoulder, Aramis spoke softly. “You’re safe now, mon fre’re. Giffrei’s not here but your other brothers are.” Aramis thought progress was being made since the youngster didn’t try and turn him into a punching bag again. Seeing d’Artagnan slowly lift his head up from his hiding place, Aramis noticed the pain reflected in the depth of the child’s brown eyes.

“What did Giffrei do to you?” Aramis felt Athos and Porthos step closer to the bed but he didn’t want to call attention to them for fear the lad would clam up. Aramis was rewarded for his efforts when d’Artagnan finally started to acknowledge him.

“I was in the stables brushing down Zad,” d’Artagnan spoke softly, though his voice trembled slightly. “I was so involved in what I was doing that I didn’t hear Giffrei’s approach,” d’Artagnan rested his head again on his knees but kept it turned sideways looking directly at Aramis’ concerned face. Shame filled him at what nearly happened as if d’Artagnan had encouraged Giffrei’s actions somehow and brought this all on himself.

“D’Artagnan, “Athos lowered his voice as to not sound threatening, “son, go on,” he urged.

Encouraged by his mentor’s calm voice, d’Artagnan did. “I was grabbed from behind, forced on the ground with Giffrei on top of me holding my arms out to the sides,” he grimaced as he looked at Porthos’ anxious expression. “I tried every dirty trick you ever taught me but couldn’t dislodge him," he felt pathetic. His training was for naught against Giffrei's attack.

“He’s a good bit heavier than you, d’Artagnan,” Porthos pointed out. “Coming up on you the way he did gave him the element of surprise.”

“Still, I should have been able to put up a good enough fight and I couldn’t,” d’Artagnan paused and turned his head away for a moment, biting his lip. Then he stretched out his legs and folded his hands in his lap, staring at them instead of his friends.

“After that Giffrei started ripping my clothes off with one hand while the weight of his body held me to the ground...” D’Artagnan stopped at the low growl coming from Athos. Peeking up at him, he could see the rage consuming his friend. Swallowing, d’Artagnan glanced at Aramis and saw the same thing reflected there as well.

“Giffrei flipped me over and started fondling me through my breeches as his tongue stabbed into my mouth while I struggled to spit it out,” d’Artagnan had to stop as shudders ran through his body at the memory of the foul taste the assault had left him with.

Feeling Aramis rub up and down his back trying to calm him, d’Artagnan smiled gratefully at him. “I found the strength from somewhere to slip out of Giffrei’s hold and after that I do not remember much of anything,” he looked away again from their shocked features. “I think I may have let my emotions get the better of me,” d’Artagnan whispered with an apologetic face toward Athos who had always taught him to think with his head and not his heart.

Exchanging positions with Aramis, Athos sat down and wrapped his arms carefully around his protégé and felt d’Artagnan bury his face in Athos’ neck and start to cry. “I will tear Giffrei apart for his abuse of you,” he whispered with emotion.

“Did I do something to make Giffrei think I wanted his attentions in that way?” d’Artagnan asked between heart wrenching hiccups.

“Don’t go down that road, whelp,” Porthos said gruffly, not enjoying the boy second guessing himself. “You’re not one for sniffin’ after the gents.”

Still wrapped up in the security of Athos’ protection, d’Artagnan snorted. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Porthos has a way with words not unlike that of me,” Aramis grinned, feeling Porthos swipe at his head.

“D’Artagnan,” Treville wanted to be careful what he said next to the lad, “you’re still fairly new to the regiment and Paris for that matter. “Growing up in Gascony where I’m sure Alexandre and your maman sheltered your upbringing.”

“What the good captain is trying to say,” Athos interjected with a relieved nod from Treville to take over, “is that there are Musketeers known to prefer the attentions of men rather than women.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted. “And some that like em’ both.”

“Correct,” Athos frowned. “It is kept quiet among the regiment. As long as a brother does not step out of line.”

“Which clearly Giffrei did when he attacked you,” Aramis snarled, wanting just one minute with the man. He’d make Giffrei rue the day he touched their young one.

“Giffrei has not only dishonored you with his actions but has brought shame upon the entire Musketeer regiment,” Treville announce severely, anger growing inside of him at how much worse this could have turned out if not for the Gascon’s temper running unchecked.

“What are ya gonna do, Captain?” Porthos waited impatiently for the officer’s decision. Thinking that if he didn’t like Giffrei’s punishment that Porthos would meat out his own at a later date.

“He’s going to be stripped of his commission and booted out,” Treville replied sharply. “If Giffrei knows what’s good for him he will never disgrace us with his presence again.” Looking at d’Artagnan’s tear streaked face, Treville’s own softened. “You rest up and take the remainder of the day off. I’m going to un-repremand Rene and your other champions that stood up for you.”

“Merci,” d’Artagnan smiled shyly as Treville returned the gestured before departing.

“I’ll say one thing,” Aramis finally had something to laugh about. “When d’Artagnan gets old enough to command his own units he won’t have any trouble getting the men to follow his orders. I mean his other friends defended the boy without even knowing what really had happened.”

“Yeah only Rene had an inkling of what went on,” Porthos folded his arms as he grinned down at the whelp, making d’Artagnan blush red.

“Well I think our pup needs to get cleaned up,” Athos commented. “And a change of clothes wouldn’t go amiss either.” He glanced in distaste at the child’s torn shirt and breeches. “You will be coming home with me.”

“Porthos and I will bring dinner over later. How’s that sound?’ Aramis looked at the lad’s uncertain face.

“Not very hungry,” d’Artagnan mumbled, not wanting them to think he was ungrateful for their concern toward him, but food was the very last thing on his mind.

“Perhaps our youngest’s appetite will improve by the time you arrive with your bounty,” Athos smiled.

“Of course,” Aramis’ eyes twinkled as he put on his hat and squeezed d’Artagnan’s shoulder before he and Porthos left.

“I do need to bathe,” d’Artagnan murmured as he fingered his ruined shirt while looking at his torn breeches. 

Seeing a sadness envelope the boy, Athos took d’Artagnan’s face in both of his hands. “D’Artagnan, do you know I’ve never been prouder to call you mon fre’re. I would have been even prouder to have called you mon fils if I had been blessed to be your pe’re.” Athos gently kissed d’Artagnan on the lad’s forehead. “Now let’s get you washed up.”

“Oui... _pe’re_ ,” d’Artagnan’s eyes came back to life as they danced with mischief and Athos moaned about upstart chiots.

The End


End file.
